


Strange Magic

by Marvelicious (Jayjaybe)



Series: Chaos Theory [1]
Category: DCU, Klarion (Comics), Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel 616
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Morally Ambiguous Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayjaybe/pseuds/Marvelicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Easy there, true-blue. From one chaote to another,” Loki lets his armor shimmer back into being, as close to his own true form as anything ever gets, “that’s hasty even for us.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WildAndFreeHearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildAndFreeHearts/gifts).



“Hey kid,” Loki calls out, casually sprawling against the building at his back. He’s in what Verity had once jokingly referred to as his ‘civvies’ - jeans and a sweatshirt, no horns or magic swords to be found. It would tip his hand too early, see? “Cool light show on 7th yesterday. You one of them new hero-types?”

He runs a hand back through his hair, getting into character and ruffling the dark locks as if he feels anywhere near as casual as he’s acting. Loki had pinged the other magic user the second he’d set foot in the City and he’s been watching. Waiting, ever since.

The boy lets his illusion drop instantly, horns sprouting from his skull and eyes going a brighter shade even than his skin when he turns on Loki. Not a jotun, Loki had realized early on, but that doesn’t mean he has any idea what this kid _actually_ is. “What’s it to you?” Magic sparks at his fingertips, the boy’s hands already weaving something together between them, and Loki may have fucked this up. Just a little.

He puts his hands up. “Easy there, true-blue. From one chaote to another,” Loki lets his armor shimmer back into being, as close to his own true form as anything ever gets, “that’s hasty even for us.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Just your fairy god trickster,” Loki teases. All of the descriptors are accurate, in their own way. “And geez, _language_. You’re like, what, twelve?” He just can’t help himself sometimes, bad idea or not.

At least it’ll give him a closer look at the kid’s magic, Loki reasons with himself. A really, really close look. Like, say, the receiving end of it - because the boy is already signing in midair, and something tells Loki what he’s casting isn’t peace on earth and goodwill to asgardians.

Loki puts his hands up and braces for impact.

The spell comes at him like a wrecking ball, not one bit of subtlety, and Loki deflects it around his palms. Brute force is the easiest to block, but he should give the kid some credit: it’s powerful stuff, and Loki gets the impression it’s more of a warning blast than an out and out attack.

“If you wanted me to take you seriously,” Loki continues as if he’d never been interrupted, only partially stalling for time so he can analyse the strange magic, “using your words would have sufficed.” At least part of it is ancient, but there’s something else. Loki puzzles it through and takes a leap. “Please tell me not everyone from the future is so trigger-happy. It’s beginning to be a rather unfortunate sort of pattern.”

That gives the boy pause. He cocks his head to the side, lifts an eyebrow. “Trigger happy?” he asks.

“It’s an expression. You know, quick to fling your nasty bits at an innocent little samaritan here?” Loki bats his eyelashes, not that he thinks he’s really fooling anyone. But it makes the boy laugh anyway.

“If you thought that was nasty, I don’t think we’re going to get along so well.” It’s as friendly as it is a threat - and only then can Loki admit to himself that he’d both worried and hoped in equal measure that this new sorcerer would be like his child self.

He’s not.

Still naive, maybe, but nowhere near so innocent. It’s a weight off of Loki’s shoulders that he’d barely realized he was carrying. He shrugs. “I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for, kid.”

“It’s Klarion,” he says, scowling, “not _kid_.”

“Klarion, then.” Loki pushes off from the wall at last and extends a hand, “Pleased to make your acquaintance. So do tell - what brings you to my iteration of New York?”

“It’s a long story,” he hesitates, as if he’s not sure whether Loki wants to hear it.

 _Far too trusting, little one_ , Loki thinks, but he keeps that to himself. He takes Klarion’s arm, leading him from the alleyway, “They always are, aren’t they?” he teases. “Lucky for you, I love stories. And I just so happen to know a fantastic 24 hour diner not too far from here - the pancakes are to die for, trust me on that one.”

There’s a part of him curls up with predatory anticipation and Loki knows it’s not only curiosity that drives him, but he smiles wide and guileless all the same. He is the god of stories, after all.

_“...Why don’t you tell me all about it?”_

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by your M/M Rares letter, WildAndFreeHearts, but since I am apparently AO3 dumb and can't get it to post to the collection, enjoy the early treat!


End file.
